Life Undone
by mypersonaljesus
Summary: Contains spoilers and references to the entire dystology. Some coarse language. Pulled from his home and brought to the Graveyard, life seems ideal for John Valentine to live until he is 17. But when tensions between Connor and the so called 'Stork club' come to a head, what will happen to those caught in the crossfire? *Please review!*
1. Prologue

AN: Hello all! This is the first fic i've ever seriously thought about doing...And then actually worked up the courage to type it up. This chapter is just an introduction to my OC, hopefully things will get more exciting as we progress.

**I do not own the Unwind dystology, or any of the canon characters within**

_*Bang*_

_In a flash, he's up. The large 16 year old shoots up out of his bed as the bright ceiling light flicks on after his door is kicked open. The teen realizes dumbly that this isn't his mother waking him up for another day of High School, no...The teen's dark blue eyes settle on a juvey cop standing in the doorway._

_"John Marcus Valentine?" The cop asks, a slightly worried look on his face as the teen he has been sent to collect stands at full height in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. The boy is big...Easily over 6 foot with the body structure that instantly tells him this teen is a former Boeuf. His medium length dark brown hair is messy, careless, in need of a wash and a cut. But the most curious trait of the teen is the thick Australian accent heard when he finally speaks._

_"The fuck is this?" John asks, his fists already balling up in to fists. John was indeed an Ex-Boeuf, kicked out because the regimented and strict military lifestyle was 'difficult' to follow for him "You're kidding me right?"_

_"Nobody is kidding Mr. Valentine...Now you can come quietly, or i can call a couple of my buddies to make you" The cop says, sizing John up with a tightened jaw._

_But John wasn't having it, there was no way he was going down without a fight. In an instant, John was sprinting forward at the cop like a bull seeing red, dropping his shoulder and smashing the cop against his cupboard and causing books and other items to fall to the ground with a clatter. There must have been other cops right outside the door, because the next thing John knew, his room was full of Juvey cops, tackling him to the ground and twisting his arms behind his back, slapping handcuffs on his hands._

_John was walked out of his room with three cops holding on to him, grabbing him tighter every time he tried to struggle. The first thing he notices when he's walked out in to the living room is his mother sitting there with a pen and notepad in her hands, tears streaming from her eyes as she looked up at another cop standing in front of her, before turning her head to John. The cop standing in front of John's mother holding an unwind order looks familiar...The whole side of his face is scarred over, most likely from a serious burn._

_"Write..." The scarfaced cop says, nodding to the pen and paper and forcing John's mother to begin writing down the reasons she decided to have her child unwound. He turned to John, showing him the unwind order "John Valentine, you mother has signed an unwind order for you...The juvey cops were coming in two days. Luckily for you, we got here first" He said, watching as the fury built up in John's eyes._

_"Are you serious!?" John roared, his head snapping to his mother "So when the going gets tough, you get me unwound? No wonder Dad left you for that big titted bimbo Natasha! I wish i stayed in Australia with him, at least he wouldn't have me unwound!" He said, relishing the feeling as his words cut in to his mother like a sharp knife._

_John's mother remained quiet as the 'cops' holding John undid his handcuffs, walking him back to his room to get a change of clothes and pack some essentials. She didn't look at him as he walked back out in a pair of jeans and a singlet with a small backpack over his shoulder "Fuck you Mum..." He said, shaking his head as he was lead out to a waiting van in the driveway._

"Yeah!"

John thoughts were snapped back to reality as a loud shout came from a boy standing next to him. He had been thinking of home quite a lot since he was saved by the Unwinds. It had only happened a couple of days ago, but by now it felt like a lifetime. His thoughts then moved to his mother, he couldn't help but feel a little guilty at the things he said, she was totally alone now...His Dad was off fighting the war in Australia, and soon remarried after leaving John's mother. He had stopped sending Emails, and he promised to always send Emails. John knew what this meant...But he wouldn't accept it until he saw a body.

"Happy Jack! Happy Jack! Happy Jack!" The boy shouted, causing a few other teens in the crowd to start chanting along before they were swiftly silenced by the one standing in front of the crowd, the one John now knew was Connor Lassiter. He spoke with a rationality that shut the chanting kids up straight away

"We're not clappers, we think before we act..." Lassiter says, causing John to nod his head slightly in agreement, he may have been the worst kind of kid at school, but he wasn't stupid, the juvey cops used the Unwinds violence against them in all the ads. As soon as John arrived at the Graveyard, he was shepherded in with another group of kids who had arrived by plane, all waiting to receive a welcome by the one who ran things, the one who turned out to be the Akron AWOL. Sure, John had heard the stories, they got more and more fanciful every time another kid told it, after a while he began to ask about the Akron AWOL just to get a laugh at the stuff some kids had made up about him. But in truth, Connor Lassiter was just a normal guy who had one through the same thing everyone else at the Graveyard had...Well, maybe not the same thing, John had never blown up a chop shop, but at least Lassiter knew what everybody felt.

John couldn't hold back the excitement building up in him as Connor spoke, giving off a short "Woo!" As his speech reached it's peek

"We will make ourselves heard!"

"Hell yeah" John says, along with a few other kids around him.

"I don't know what happens to our consciousness when we're unwound, i don't even know when that consciousness starts, but i do know this..." Lassiter pauses, sweeping his eyes over the large crowd in front of him "We have a right to our lives!"

Everybody, including John, pumps their fist in the air with a cheer.

"We have a right to choose what happens to our bodies!"

The cheer grows, everybody in the crowd shouts and laughs as they throw their fists in the air.

"We deserve a world where both these things are possible, and it's our job to help make that world!".

...

John wipes a small bead of sweat from his forehead as he walked with the rest of the kids further in to the Graveyard. The sun here is harsh, but his childhood in Australia has tempered a resistance to the heat. As he walks, the sounds of a classical piano being played reaches his ears, causing his eyes to find the girl in the wheelchair playing a grand piano under the wing of the old Air Force. She smiles at him as he walks by, and he gives a small nod in return, observing her chair for a few seconds before he turns his head forward again, smiling as they are all greeted by thousands of other teens rushing out of the planes to meet him...A new home, a chance at life, he promises himself he wont waste it.


	2. Another day, another dollar

It didn't take long for John to get integrated in to the Graveyard. After a few nights in the 'IHOP' jet where all the newcomers stay until they are assigned a job, John was picked to be a part of the plane dismantling crew. It made the days go faster for the Australian at least, being able to focus on a task until his shift was over.

Today was no different. A buyer was looking for jet engine parts, and the Graveyard had just the aircraft on offer: An old Pan Am 727 that had been baking in the sun since god knows when. As soon as the engine was detached and lowered to the ground, John and his team got to work, stripping the outer shelling and pulling out the parts the customer required.

It was another scorching day, and the wing of the old 727 only provided shelter from the sun, not shelter from the heat itself "Bloody hell...Screw this heat, easily over forty degrees today" John said to a younger short haired Umber kid working next to him. John never caught his name, but they had dismantled a few parts together before.

"Forty degrees? I think you mean over one hundred degrees" The boy said, sticking his screwdriver in to the depths of the engine

"Celsius mate, forty degrees celsius...You'll want the flathead for that one" John pushed a flathead screwdriver over to the boy, receiving a nod of thanks as he took it. Dismantling aircraft parts was hard at first, but after a few weeks of dismantling engines and parts of wings, John began to get the hang of it. He knew which tools to use, and he knew where the specified parts where in the engines.

"How are you guys doing?" Came a voice from behind the workers as a teen in blue camo came strolling up behind them.

Turning his head to see who it was, John eyebrows raised as he saw it was Connor who greeted them "Lassiter..." John said as a way of greeting, nodding at him before returning to his work "What brings you down here with all the worker bees?"

"You know me, i just like to make sure this place runs smoothly. The engine parts are for a regular client, and i want to keep him regular..." He said, walking slowly around the engine and watching the teens work, pointing out mistakes and offering advice where needed. After a while of silence save for the clinking of tools against metal, Connor rounded the engine once more and stopped behind John "Little birdie told me you're a Boeuf, don't get many of them at the Graveyard"

"Yeah? Well that little birdie has it's facts messed up. I'm an Ex-Boeuf, they like to take kids early in their teens, get them trained up and ready for action quicker. But i'm not really one to be 'bound by rules'. I hated it, and they hated me, and eventually i was kicked out and sent back home"

Connor nods lightly "What branch where you?"

"Army, seemed like the simplest choice. And it was, the training was hard, but i didn't have to get my pilots license, or go through G-force testing like that meathead Air Force Boeuf that always follows you around"

Connor frowned at the mention of Trace, slightly offended at the badmouthing "Hey, he's a good guy, helped me out plenty with running this place"

John chuckled softly, shaking his head and turning it back to Connor "I never said he wasn't. It's an Army thing i guess. You know, chair force and all that"

"How much training have you received?" Connor asked suddenly, as if it was what he was trying to get to the whole time.

"Well, not as much as Mr. Chair Force...But i got a decent amount before i was kicked out"

"How much is a decent amount?"

"'Bout a year and a half"

Connor nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer "Well, thats more training than most of the kids here...Well, i better get going, i've already kept Risa waiting long enough" He said, beginning to back away from the engine.

"Ahh, off with the missus? I get 'cha" John smirked, giving Connor a wink which caused him to shake his head before walking off.

After a few more hours, John's work was finished. The engine was dismantled, and all the parts had been taken away to the Graveyards front office. It was hard work for no pay, but it guaranteed his place in the small society of Unwinds, and made him feel like he was helping. As the sun set over Arizona, John stretched his back before heading straight for the boys dorm, intent on finally getting some sleep.


	3. Wetwork

AN: Hey everybody! As you have probably realised, i am following the canon story for now. But fear not, i will be branching off in to my own story in due time, so bare with me. Thank you to those who have reviewed, it's the reviews that keep me writing this story. Cheers.

**-John-**

"Tell us again why we're taking out Trace?"

John still had no idea what was happening. It was a cool night in the graveyard, the perfect kind of night to get a comfortable 8 hours of sleep without sweating like a pig in to the bedroll, and her he was, waiting in the shadows of the plane across the way from the old DC-3 that was used as a 'detention centre' of sorts for some of the roughest teens in the graveyard. The only information he managed to get from Connor as he was dragged from his near sleep state was that Trace needed to go...No matter what.

"Shh!" Connor hissed as he glanced over at John for a few moments "Because i say we are"

John frowned at the unsatisfying answer before eyeing the un in Connors hands, it was loaded an the safety was flipped off. Hopefully he knew how to use it.

"Are we supposed to wait here all night?" Complained the other kid Connor had dragged along with him on his little escapade.

"Yes, if we have to" Connor said, switching the pistol from his left hand to his right as he frowned at the plane Trace was supposed to be in.

John began to tire of the whole hurry-up-and-wait situation, letting off a light sigh and running a hand through his curly hair. His eyes dart up again as Connor taps him on the shoulder. It was Trace, moving down the cargo ramp of the plane and entering the portable toilet on the ground. John moved, along with the others, from his position in the shadows, keeping a steady pace as they closed in on the toilet. He watched as Connor took a deep breath before opening the door "Uh oh..."

Trace stood there, staring at the three teens in front of him. The man moved like lighting, knocking the gun out of Connors hand before sending him to the ground. In a few seconds, Trace has his eyes set on John, moving in for the attack with well trained movements. John managed to block the first few shots, but he was only an Army Boeuf trained for a year an a bit, this man was something else. John felt the knee impact with his stomach before his head was raised and a fist was sent in to the left side of his head, leaving the Australian dazed and destined for the dust. He landed on the ground with a thud, his vision blurred an his head fuzzy as he watched the other kid get taken down before Trace moved back over to Connor. It was then that John lost consciousness, not the kind of rest he wanted, but a rest none the less.

...

"Ow, ow, ow! That bloody stings!"

John had woken up after a few hours of laying in the dust next to the old DC-3, he could see the sun begin to peek over the horizon and headed straight for the medical jet as he felt at the stinging lump and cut on the side of his head.

"Stop squirming! Big baby..." Said the woman treating him with a smirk as she rubbed medical alcohol in the wound before beginning the process of stitching it up "What did you do to get this? Looks like you lost a very big bet with a Neanderthal"

John scoffed as he glanced over at the woman treating him. She was wheelchair bound, John could remember her from when he arrived at the graveyard, and he searched his memories for her name "...Risa, isn't it? Yeah, you could say that - Ow! Christ woman, stitch the wound, don't bloody stab at it" He said, but his tone of voice said he was joking around.

Risa smirked again as she finished up, cutting off the excess suture and nodding at her work "There, all done...Now no more fights for you, Mr. Valentine"

John was surprised she knew his name, but he guessed she memorised all the kids names that would be 'at risk' of getting sent to her med bay. "Thank you very much...And i'll try not to" He said, flashing her a smile before standing up and making his way out of the medical jet. "At least i got the day off..."


End file.
